Strange voices sing among the planets which
  Move on for ever; in the old sea's foam
  There is a prophecy; in Heaven's blue dome
Great beacon fires are lighted; black as pitch
Is night, and yet star jewels make it rich;
  And if the moon lights up her cloudy home
  The darkness flees, and forth strange gleamings roam
Lighting up hill and vale and mound and ditch,
Earth is full of all questions that all ask;
  And she alone of heavy silence full
Answereth not: what is it severeth
Us from the spirits that we would be with?
  Or is it that our fleshly ear is dull,
And our own shadow hides light with a mask?